


something just like this

by allhalethekings



Series: Tumblr Fics [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Music AU, Singer Derek, dj stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allhalethekings/pseuds/allhalethekings
Summary: “Hey, did Peter talk to you yet about your new song?”He scrunches his forehead, fingers twitching towards the laptop subconsciously. “No? Why should he? I already told him it shouldn’t be on the market.”Cora snorts. “It’s cute you thought that would work. He already spoke to Jackson Whittemore about it.”Derek’s stomach sinks. This song is private and to find out that it might be in the hands of someone like Jackson Whittemore? Jackson fucking Whittemore?His contempt for them must have shown on his face because Cora smirks. She’s a bitch like that. “Stiles wants that song so Peter already set up a meeting. Have fun!”What the actual fuck.“What the fuck is a Stiles?” Derek asks helplessly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I dare y'all to listen to [something just like this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM7MFYoylVs) and not think of sterek. This fic is just a slightly different take on it.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

Derek’s barely had time to put his laptop on his desk, grab the chair from where it was across the room and wheel it to the desk so he could sit before Cora pokes her head in.

“Hey, did Peter talk to you yet about your new song?”

He scrunches his forehead, fingers twitching towards the laptop subconsciously. “No? Why should he? I already told him it shouldn’t be on the market.”

Cora snorts. “It’s cute you thought that would work. He already spoke to Jackson Whittemore about it.”

Derek’s stomach sinks. This song is _private_ and to find out that it might be in the hands of someone like Jackson Whittemore? Jackson fucking Whittemore?

No matter what Peter or Billboard 100 has to say, Jackson Whittemore is a producer known for working with amateur pop artists -- and not amateur in terms of industry experience. Amateur in terms of pop singers who sing about mindless shit to the most basic, computer-generated, uber repetitive music that doesn’t mean anything.

His contempt for them must have shown on his face because Cora smirks. She’s a bitch like that. “Stiles wants that song so Peter already set up a meeting. Have fun!”

What the actual fuck.

“What the fuck is a Stiles?” Derek asks helplessly, but Cora’s already shut the door.

-

It turns out Stiles is one part of a Grammy Award-winning DJ duo, Beacon Thrills, with Scott McCall being the other part. Even though they broke into the EDM scene almost seven years ago on the cusp of being 18, they had managed to collaborate with some of the biggest musicians songwriters in the industry.

It was a list long enough to make Derek’s stomach curdle with jealousy because here he is, a seasoned songwriter who’s had to struggle endlessly to get heard in this cutthroat industry and these two basically dropped into the scene out of nowhere and became overnight successes.

Under the tutelage of their manager Jackson Whittemore, and agent (and Stiles’s rumored ex-girlfriend), Lydia Martin, who had close ties to Argent Records, they had done very well for themselves.

Now, after seven long years, they wanted a break and this had raised a lot of questions about their future. According to TMZ _and_ Perez Hilton, Scott McCall wanted to go back to school while Stiles wanted to keep producing but nobody was sure how he could do as a solo act.

The more Derek read about them and the more tracks he listened to by Beacon Thrills, the more curious he becomes. Critics had raised a fair point; their songs had an impeccable balance of heart and soul without losing their edge. The singers’ vocals were only enhanced by the song’s arrangement, complementing each other in a smart and cohesive way. And producing this level of music is a joint effort, with Scott and Stiles balancing each other out in much of the same way a bass guitarist would his lead singer, so if the bass guitarist drops out and there’s no replacement, what happens to the band? Can it survive?

So it stands to reason that Stiles’s first venture on his own needed to be strong and even that is an understatement. It would make or break his career so it had to take the world by storm.

And apparently, Stiles had quote-unquote fallen in love with Derek’s song and was determined to get it so there’s that. He’d read Jackson’s email on Peter’s phone and it was clear, albeit concise.

_Stiles wants it. Said he can create magic with it. Full contract can be open to negotiation as long as Derek is on board._

The problem is, Derek’s song is for himself. Or rather it’s his tribute to his parents. He had poured his heart and soul into the song, trying to capture the story of his parents’ relationship.

And now, this song might go to some random twenty-year-old who looked at the world with a cocky, overconfident smirk on his face and who’d play it for a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people hopped up on every kind of drug.

It’s disrespectful and distasteful and definitely not going to happen. He doesn’t care how much money they offer him, how much royalties are written into the contract, or how recognizable his name will be after the song releases. He’d rather it took two extra years to get his name on the map than to sacrifice this song.

At least that’s what Derek tells himself five minutes before he heads into the meeting room at Argent Records.

And then he meets Stiles.

-

Stiles is...a hurricane in human form. He’s wild and fierce and looks at everyone like he’s going to make his mark in the world, those who try to stand in his way be damned. Like he’s going to make sure you never forget him.

Not that that’s hard in the first place. The pictures plastered all over social media of Stiles do him no justice. With big Bambi-like eyes that practically sparkle when the light hits them right to his soft, pink lips, Stiles is a vision to behold. Derek doesn’t even want to think about his milky complexion dotted with moles that he just wants to run his tongue over.

Interestingly, Stiles stays silent, almost unnervingly so, when he walks into the meeting room. If the pictures on various gossip sites and the Beacon Thrills Instagram were at all indicative of his personality, Stiles would have already leered at Derek by now or said something abrasively sarcastic. Maybe Jackson and Lydia talked to him beforehand but it seems unlikely because, from the way Peter often waxes poetic about Lydia, she doesn’t seem to be the babying type.

“Take a seat, Derek, and stop staring at Stiles,” Lydia says primly making Derek flame up as he immediately averted his gaze. He doesn’t miss the glare Stiles shoots at Lydia in response but she remains obviously unaffected.

The meeting room has a long table; Derek and Peter sit on one side while Lydia, Stiles, and Jackson sit on the other. Derek rests his guitar on the table beside him and it doesn’t escape his notice that Stiles tracks the movements, poker-faced and unblinking.

“So let’s talk about the song,” Peter starts, resting his chin on the palm of his hand but Jackson raises his hand, stopping him from continuing. He takes out a beige manila folder from his bag and pushes it towards Peter and Derek.

“This is what we’re willing to offer. Stiles has only seen the lyrics so he’s open to the melody Derek has in mind when he wrote the song--”

“Not just open!” Stiles rushes out, interrupting Jackson. “More than open. If you’re firm on the melody, I’ll work with--” he cuts off as Lydia’s steely eyes turn to him, lips pursed and face decidedly unimpressed. Stiles shuts his mouth and mimes zipping his lips before folding his hands in his lap, looking properly chastised.

Derek ducks his head, trying to cover his smile, but judging by the way Stiles looks at him with narrowed eyes, he doesn’t quite accomplish that.

Peter merely hums and Derek knows he’s ready to have fun. He wants to roll his eyes but he knows he has to remain professional at these meetings. Ironically, talking isn’t really Derek’s forte. So he sits back and let Peter do all the talking; if nothing else, he’s a master at that.

“If I know my nephew, he has a melody and won’t stray from it. He’s also decided that he’s quite attached to this particular song so I’m afraid I’m not sure what you want me to do about it,” he says simply.

If Derek’s surprised by the turn of events, he makes sure he doesn’t show it. It wasn’t like Peter to actively take a meeting only to say they’re not interested in the offer. But then again, this is the first time Derek’s been adamantly against a deal so maybe Peter took notice. Instead, he looks at Stiles, and his curiosity peaks when he notices Stiles looking just a slight bit worried since they sat down. Interesting.

Lydia narrows her eyes at Peter, obviously not impressed with Peter wasting her time, and she slides back in her chair but Stiles leans forward, placing a hand over hers. He looks straight at Derek with the kind of intensity that Derek can’t afford be on the receiving end of.

“You sing, right?” he asks, shoulders easing just a bit when Lydia’s chair rolls towards the table again. “Not that--I just mean--I’ve seen some of your old YouTube videos that are still up so I know and you’re a songwriter--a really good one actually--and well, any decent songwriter has to know about melodies so they have to be able to sing. But you’re good, you’re really good.”

It’s not the first time Derek’s heard Stiles ramble nervously--his interviews are laden with nervous, self-deprecating babbling--but it’s the first time Stiles has no punchline.

Derek looks at Peter, unsure of what to do, but he just shrugs, leaning back in his chair. _Do what you want_ , Peter’s face seems to say. He jerks his head to a nod.

“I just--,” Stiles cuts off suddenly, before exhaling sharply and bracing himself as though he’s preparing for the worst case scenario. He takes out his phone and places it face-up in the middle of the table. A storm of determination brews on his face as he motions to the phone. “I want to hear your song as you pictured it. You brought your guitar because regardless of what you told your uncle or anyone else, you knew you might have to use it. To play it for us. So will you sing it for me? And let me record it?”

Derek’s mouth dries, mind blanking, as he stares at the guitar leaning against the edge of the table innocuously. For a second, he’s angry that Stiles called him out on already being open to whatever offer they place on the table but at the same time, he can’t blame Stiles for merely being observant.

 _Son of a Sheriff_ , he remembers Stiles joking during one of Beacon Thrills’ earliest interviews with Billboard after recounting a story of his teenaged delinquent days. The interviewer had asked Stiles how he’d managed to get away with some ridiculous high school prank and even though Derek knew Stiles probably meant to say it as a joke, it frustrated him to see a cocky eighteen-year-old guy joke about being able to get away unpunished because of who his dad was, to see him exude such privilege.

But seeing him now, Stiles looks the opposite of cocky. It’s like he wants to get on Derek’s good side, needs Derek to be able to see past his immature shenanigans if only to humor him. So Derek does.

“You can record it,” he says eventually.

“If I hear anything even close to what Derek’s about it play on any radio station--even a dinky one in the middle of a hick town in Idaho--I will happily put all of my lawyers to work,” Peter adds lazily, eyes glinting. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” Stiles nods. “I would never do that.” And then to Derek, “I would never do that to you. Seriously man. I love your work.”

Derek nods gruffly and places his guitar case on the table before gently taking the guitar out and getting ready. From the periphery, he sees Stiles scramble to open the Voice Memos app on his phone and set to record. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He hasn’t sung in a long time, thanks to a certain someone, and this is the first time he’d be singing this song in the presence of people who aren’t his family.

His gut coils with nervousness but he strums his guitar to shake the feeling out of his fingers and sings.

 _I've been reading books of old_  
_The legends and the myths_  
_Achilles and his gold_  
_Hercules and his gifts_  
_Spiderman's control_  
_And Batman with his fists  
_ _And clearly I don't see myself up on that list_

 _But she said, where'd you wanna go?_  
How much you wanna risk?  
I'm not looking for somebody  
With some superhuman gifts  
Some superhero  
Some fairytale bliss  
Just something I can turn to  
Somebody I can kiss

 _I want something just like this_  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Oh, I want something just like this  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo

_Oh, I want something just like this  
I want something just like this_

_I've been reading books of old_  
The legends and the myths  
The testaments they told  
The moon and its eclipse  
And Superman unrolls  
A suit before he lifts  
But I'm not the kind of person that it fits

 _She said, where'd you wanna go?_  
How much you wanna risk?  
I'm not looking for somebody  
With some superhuman gifts  
Some superhero  
Some fairytale bliss  
Just something I can turn to  
Somebody I can miss

_I want something just like this  
I want something just like this_

_I want something just like this_  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Oh, I want something just like this  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo

 _Where'd you wanna go?_  
How much you wanna risk?  
I'm not looking for somebody  
With some superhuman gifts  
Some superhero  
Some fairytale bliss  
Just something I can turn to  
Somebody I can kiss  
I want something just like this

Derek finishes off with a few more strums and looks up for the first time since he started singing only to see Stiles staring at him, looking noticeably affected by the song. He doesn’t understand why, because this song doesn’t--shouldn’t--hold any meaning to Stiles and yet here they are.

Without saying a word, Stiles grabs the folder Jackson had put on the table, grabs a pen from the pen holder on the table and scribbles something on the cover before sliding it towards Derek. His name and phone number, it turns out.

“I want to collaborate with you,” Stiles starts slowly, determined. “I know what my reputation is and the picture you have of me in your head and I also know you’ve probably heard about Scotty and I taking a break while he goes off back to school. So you probably think I just want a song that’ll help me prove what I’m worth to the industry. But your song isn’t a means to an end for me. Not this one.” He taps the corner of the folder with his number on it. “Use my number. If you’re not sure about me, then get to know me. And if you still decide I’m not worth your song, I’ll make peace with that, but at least let me try.”

Derek sits there, frozen and staring at the number before looking at Stiles. Lydia and Jackson stare back at him before nodding and getting up, almost in sync with each other. Stiles takes a deep breath and gets up after a second as well and all three of them file out of the meeting room, with Stiles turning back to him one last time.

“I’m serious, Derek. Use my number.”

When the door closes behind them with a gentle _swoosh_ , Peter turns to him and grins. “Well, that was certainly interesting.”

That’s one word for it.

-

Derek doesn’t want to do it. Not really. But Peter puts the folder on his table and smiles knowingly at him before waltzing out of his room. He doesn’t want to use the number and yet…

It takes him two full weeks to even add the number to his phone contacts list. Every day he walks by his desk or sits at it to work on his laptop, Stiles’s name and number stare at him, digging away at his mind, pressuring him to take the chance.

A month after the initial meeting, when Derek’s drunk and in a fairly talkative mood (it happens only when he’s drunk and is the sole reason for why he stays away from alcohol in the first place), he takes out his phone and dials the number.

“ _Hello? Who is this?_ ” A groggy voice answers after the phone dials for a long time.

“Why do you want my song?” Derek asks, nestling deep into his comforter, humming at how amazingly warm it feels.

“ _Derek?_ ”

“Duh, who else would it be?”

A hysterical burst of giggle bubbles out of Stiles. “ _You’re right, who else would call me at 4 am in the morning? Clearly, I should have known._ ”

Derek yawns. “It’s 4? Wow, I’m a dick.”

Stiles laughs, making Derek smile. It’s a pretty laugh. But he still hasn’t answered Derek’s question and he wants to know so he could get on with his sleeping plan so he asks again.

“Why do you want my song?”

Stiles is quiet for a long time and Derek yawns again. “ _You seem pretty sleepy there, big guy. How about we go out for a brunch or something tomorrow and I’ll tell you then?_ ”

“Are you asking me out? That’ not going to get you the song, y’know,” Derek says, narrowing his eyes at his phone in the dark. His arm starts to hurt so he puts Stiles on speaker and puts the phone beside his head on speaker.

“ _Not asking you out. But I’d rather give you the answer when you’re sober enough to remember it._ ”

“You’re not asking me out.”

“ _You’re upset about that now?_ ”

“Thought that’s what you did. TMZ said so.”

Stiles huffs. “ _You read TMZ?_ ”

“Had to do research on you.”

“ _What else did your research tell you about me?_ ”

“That you’re funny. Infuriatingly so.”

“ _Maybe you’re not as drunk as I think you are if you’re using words like infuriatingly_ ,” Stiles teases, making Derek smile again. He closes his eyes.

“You’re abrasive and cocky and you dated Lydia apparently. But you’re also disgustingly loyal and protective and ambitious. Soooooo ambitious. You’re wild and crazy and beautiful. I thought you were going to laugh at the meeting and make jokes about whatever and not take anything seriously but you were real. And I don’t know what to do with that. I’m not used to being wrong about someone.”

Stiles falls quiet for a second and Derek peeks out of one eye at his phone, waiting. He frowns when all Stiles says is, “ _I see._ ”

“That’s it?”

“ _Have brunch with me tomorrow. I want to show you something._ ”

Derek yawns again. Maybe waiting until tomorrow is a good idea. “Mmkay. Night, Stiles.”

“ _Good night, Derek._ ”

-

When Derek wakes up the next morning--okay, afternoon--there’s a single text on his phone, one from Stiles. He squeezes his eyes shut, sure that it’s a mistake because how else would Stiles have his number? Derek didn’t even-- _oh god_.

His mouth still tastes like a bad mix of tequila and coconut rum, thanks to Laura, his head feels like he was hit by a mack truck, and he’s not even awake enough to deal with his stupidity. He buries himself fully under his blanket to drown out the brightness in his room, mentally beating himself up at thinking it was a good idea to call Stiles while he was drunk. Seriously, Stiles of all people.

Unfortunately, his plan of being swallowed whole by his bed doesn’t work and he emerges into the outside world, grabbing at his phone. After taking a deep breath, he unlocks the phone and opens the text thread with Stiles.

 **> Stiles, 9 am:** _If you still feel like brunch, let me know. Let’s talk._

Derek checks the time, it’s almost 1 pm, and sighs. He thinks about ignoring the text. Maybe Stiles will forget about brunch completely or he’ll think Derek just slept through his entire day.

But then again, he wants to know why. It’s a question that’s been plaguing him since their meeting--why Stiles seems so desperate to collab with Derek on this particular song--and he wants an answer. Besides, he should be fair. Stiles put the ball in his court and he’s the one who called Stiles in the first place. He began this so he should see it to the end.

 **< Derek, 1:12 pm:** _The Grind has really good brunch. That sound okay? In 45 mins?_

 **< Derek, 1:12 pm:** _I know the owner, Kira, so I can make sure we get some privacy._

The reply is instantaneous and Derek tries to ignore the small pool of butterflies that seem to be flying around in his stomach or the way his heart starts to thud.

 **> Stiles, 1:12 pm:** _I love that place - Kira’s awesome. 2 pm sounds great._

Derek throws his phone and turns to his closet.

What the fuck do people wear to brunch?

-

Part of the reason Derek loves _The Grind_ is because of the staff. Kira practically drilled it into every new employee she hired; a) know who you’re serving, b) never under any circumstances take any shit from crazy people who wanted autographs or journalists looking for their next cover stories, c) never, ever repeat anything you hear outside _The Grind_ , and d) break any rules and you’re fired - no questions asked.

He wasn’t surprised to learn that Scott knew Kira; given who her family is, anyone who’s anyone would have met her at one event or another. The Yukimuras are practically music royalty. Kira’s dad, Ken, is one of the biggest record execs and her mom, Noshiko, is one of the best agents in the industry responsible for launching the careers of some of the biggest musicians and artists to date.

Derek had met Kira the first time back when he’d just moved to LA with his sisters and Peter and had stumbled into _The Grind_ , desperate for sustenance after a long day of meetings. Kira was the only one working on out front and though she seemed completely innocent and angelic, she’d very snippily told off a random guy who was trying to hound her for a story.

Needless to say both of them had gotten along great, completely unaware of who the other one was. And maybe that was the way to establish a real friendship in this crazy town, Derek supposes.

He takes off his Ray Bans when he opens the door and is greeted by Kira herself. He raises an eyebrow at her, surprised to see her at the front again of the house again.

“Don’t you usually hide away from people?” he teases, knowing full well how much she hates being at the POS station.

“No, that would be you. I just hate this stupid machine,” she grumbles, scowling at the cash register. “Know what you want or should I come by for a bit?”

Derek clears his throat, trying to seem inconspicuous as he scopes out the space trying to spot Stiles. No luck, not that it was surprising. Kira had probably sent Stiles upstairs to the private seating area she had built specially for the celebrities that frequented the cafe. “I’ll wait - did he order already?”

“Nope.” She smiles. “Said he’d wait for you. Didn’t think he’s your type, though, but I always did tell Scott you too would hit it off if you ever met.”

Derek flushes, clearing his throat. “Um--yeah, it’s not a date. It’s a work thing and what? That doesn’t make sense. You don’t think he’s my type but that we’d hit it off?”

“I mean, I didn’t think you thought he was your type but I knew you two would get along pretty well,” she clarifies.

“Right. So he’s already upstairs?”

“Yep, I’ll come by in ten!” She slides him the code of the day on a small piece of paper and waves goodbye.

Derek nods his thanks before going around the front of the store to a door marked _Special Access Only_. He punched in the code Kira gave him, and opens the door when it unlocks, making sure that it closed properly behind him.

This is the other part of why he loves _The Grind_ \--complete and utter privacy for those who want it.

It’s fairly full at this time of day but he easily spots Stiles sitting at a booth on the far side of the room. There’s another man at the table who’s kept his gaze firmly on Derek as soon as he gets close enough to Stiles and he would be perturbed by the behavior but realizes soon enough that he’s probably part of Stiles’s security team.

Stiles gets up as soon as he sees Derek, smiling hesitantly. “How do you feel?”

Derek shrugs. “Alright. I don’t really get hangovers so hangovers are never the issue. Drunken phone calls, on the other hand…,” he trails off, a rueful smile tugging at his lips, hoping to break the tension a bit. Not that there’s any tension between the two, but even Derek can feel the waves of awkwardness roll out from Stiles.

Stiles huffs in response. “Been there done that. Count yourself lucky that Lydia’s never been on the receiving end of one of your drunken calls. Pretty sure I thought I was going to lose my ability to have kids ever again.”

“She does seem…” Derek tries to search for the right word without seeming rude or inappropriate but Stiles rolls his eyes, waving off his awkward attempt to not offend him.

“Overbearing. Dominant. Like she can whip your balls off with one hand while getting a manicure on the other? Damn straight,” Stiles laughs.

“Ready to order?” Kira asks, surprising the both of them, neither of whom had the chance to browse through the menus yet. She rolls her eyes when she sees the unopened menus and their sheepish expressions. “Oh, I don't even know why you two still pretend you’re going to try something new. Derek, you’ll have the eggs Benedict, tater tots, and a bowl of fruit with orange juice and Stiles, you’ll get the Hearty Breakfast plate, brown toast, eggs sunny side up, no sausage, sub bacon, right?”

Derek grins, as Stiles laughs easily. “You’re the best, Kira,” Derek says in return.

“And don’t you forget it,” she winks.

“Don’t worry, Scotty won’t let me,” Stiles teases as Kira turns bright red. She flicks him on the forehead, making him flail back.

“Ass,” she says fondly, before collecting the menus from them and leaving them be.

At Derek’s confused glance, Stiles explains, “Scotty and her are pretending they're not both pining for the other. It was really cute at first and then it just got annoying because you just want to smush their faces together. Since I can’t do that, I just make awkward jokes until they decide to have _the_ conversation.”

Derek snorts. “I would say that’s terrible but I know Kira wouldn’t ever do anything about it until she’s pushed to the edge so if it works, that’s all that matters, right?”

Stiles hums in agreement.

They fall quiet for a bit, unsure of how to turn the conversation back to Derek’s song. He can tell Stiles is nervous again because he starts biting his lips, fingers tapping the edge of the table. Derek knows he’s just searching for the right way to bring up the song, so he cuts to the chase and puts Stiles out of his misery.

“The song,” Derek prompts casually. Stiles’s head jerks up and he stares at Derek, wide-eyed.

“Um, right, the song--,” Stiles mutters. He sighs to himself, before opening up his Hershel backpack and fishing out a few sheets of paper that he slides towards Derek. Music sheets. “I didn’t want to sound too overbearing or presume anything or whatever, but I wrote an arrangement for it.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at him, paired with a delightfully perfect straight face. On the chart Laura made of the spectrum Derek’s many facial expressions, they deemed it ‘Judgey McJudgerson’. Apparently, the name is quite accurate if the way Stiles flushes immediately is anything to go by.

“Bit presumptuous, don't you think?” Derek asks dryly, before squinting at the music sheets. Despite what his facial expression says, there’s a faint trickle of nervousness that forms in his gut. Before this moment, Derek had the liberty to pretend none of this was real. But now…

He thumbs at the sheet, fingers grazing over the music notes and everything else becomes a blur; Stiles, the restaurant they’re in, everything. The lyrics are the exact same--as they should be--and while Stiles kept the guitar as an instrument, he had changed the tempo and harmony to reflect his own style.

Derek...doesn't really know what to say and maybe Stiles gets that because he starts to babble almost as soon as Derek flips to the last page.

“I know you might think I ruined your song but trust me--if you give it a chance and let me play it for you, you might--”

“Why this song?” Derek finally asks, looking at Stiles with a scrutinizing gaze. “If you wanted to work with me, we could have done a collab with a different song. But you picked this one and from what I can see, you’re adamant about it. So why this one?”

Stiles bites his lips again, chewing on it helplessly. His fingers start tapping again, pausing only when Kira brings them their food, at which point he starts to chew on the drawstring of his red hoodie.

They murmur their thanks to Kira and Derek resolutely ignores the way Kira shoots him a curious look before walking away.

Stiles coughs, drawing Derek’s attention back to him. “Your song--um--it reminded me a lot of how my mom used to make me feel.”

His voice is small, laden with regret and sorrow, and Derek realizes instantly that his mom probably isn’t around anymore. He wants to stop Stiles, not wanting to put Stiles in a position to divulge private information about his life to a stranger but Stiles isn't looking at him anymore.

“I was a pretty hellish kid before I got diagnosed with ADHD. Nothing could keep my attention long enough for me to focus on it. I was a terrible kid, always getting in trouble, getting bad grades, and whatnot. But my mom--she never let any of that affect me. No matter what other people would say, she always told me that I never had to be perfect or be normal. After I got on the meds, I was super smart--not that I’m tooting my own horn or anything--but it’s true.

“I could focus, I was good at finding patterns, and everything just became so easy. But I never really liked school so I didn’t want to go to college or anything. I applied, obviously, and got in everywhere, but my mom could tell I didn’t want to go. My dad blew up, obviously, but my mom did the same thing she did years back. She told me she’d love me no matter what I chose and if I wanted to do something, my heart had to be in it. That was her only condition.”

Stiles gives him a wry smile. Derek’s heart lurches painfully in his chest because that conversation sounds awfully familiar to one he’d had with his own dad. Do what you want, Derek. _Follow your heart and never look back. You can figure out the rest_ , he’d said when Derek first told him he wanted to become a songwriter.

“Everybody else told me I was wasting my potential and I’d never make it but she never made me feel like that. When I heard your chorus, I felt like she was speaking to me. And that voice needs to be heard by everyone,” he finishes.

Derek feels like somebody just punched him in the gut, and he stares helplessly at Stiles as he tries to figure out what to say.

“I--”

“I know it’s personal for you so I understand if you still decide to--,” Stiles starts but Derek cuts him off.

“I wrote it for my parents,” he blurts, making Stiles jerk back. Derek’s not sure what makes him say it but he keeps going. “It’s their story. Of how they came to be. The chorus? That’s my dad talking about my mom. How she never wanted someone perfect or too good to be true. How she wanted someone that was real.”

Silence falls between them, as they try to figure out what to say. Derek stares at Stiles with wide eyes; it’s the first time he’s ever said this out loud to someone other than his family. Both Laura and Cora had teared up when they heard the song and the meaning behind it, while Peter had nodded, letting his mask slip for just a moment or so.

None of them had said anything else, but then again, there wasn’t any need to. It was all there in the lyrics.

“I didn’t know,” Stiles finally says, looking away. “I understand why you hesitated now. I’m sorry I pushed you--”

“You can have it,” Derek blurts again. He’s surprised by his own declaration, but he knows the decision is instinctive. He knows there’s a genuine possibility that Stiles, as brash and cocky as he may seem, would give the song the respect it deserved.

Stiles’s jaw drops, as he stares at Derek like a goldfish. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he lets out a strangled, “Are you serious?”

Derek grits his teeth, but nods. “I--we’ll have to talk about the final product and how everything will work out but I like the arrangement enough on paper to at least give you a shot.”

Stiles nods furiously. “ _Dude_ , you--we’ll do this live in person and if you’re still not happy with it, you can back out. We won’t even sign the contract unless you’re happy with the final version, okay?”

Derek gives a stilted nod. “I--good, yes, that’s good.”

Stiles bites his lip again, like he wants to ask Derek something again, but is clearly hesitating. At Derek’s pointed look, he flushes. “I kept listening to the recording when I was doing the arrangement and I--I couldn’t get your voice out of my head. I just--would you be open to singing it for the final version?”

Derek’s eyes fly open at the request and he jerks back, clearly not expecting it. “What--”

Stiles looks away. “I just--you have this deep personal connection to the song and when I heard you the first time, and every time after that, I could feel that connection, y’know? I could hear the hope and pain and yearning in your voice and it’s beautiful. I think if we collaborated for real, it would be magic.” He gives a hopeful look, and well, it’s not like Derek can say no.

Jeez, when did that even happen? When did he go from not even knowing who Stiles was to not being able to say no to him? How did that happen?

Before he can formulate his answer, an idea occurs to him. “My sister plays guitar too. Electric. I want--I’d like her to be involved.”

He’s not even sure what Cora would say, but he knew there’s a very high chance she’d probably end up agreeing. Despite a very serious case of chronic resting bitch face, Cora’s surprisingly sentimental when it comes to her family.

Stiles’s eyes light up and he shoots up in his chair, rocking forward with excitement. “Fuck yeah! Let’s get her to come in. I’ve got a killer bassist so let’s get them together.”

Finally, _finally_ , Derek’s lips curl into a small smile and for the first time in weeks, his shoulders feel a little less heavy.

-

As Derek had predicted, Cora frowns when he first asks her and walks away, without answering--not that it matters. She’d come back eventually after she’d had time to think about it on her own. Interestingly, she wasn’t surprised that Derek had agreed to give Stiles a trial run; instead, she and Laura had looked at each other with knowing smirks that Derek will forever ignore. Nothing good comes out of trying to figure out what’s going on in his sisters’ heads.

He’s learned that the hard way.

After a few days of silence, he gets a text on his phone.

 **> Cora, 2:22pm:** _I’ll do it._

He sends Stiles a text almost immediately, ignoring the familiar coil of nervousness that tightens in his gut, and they set up a time to meet at Stiles’s house a few weeks later.  

Leading up to the day, Derek’s caught in a constant state of nerves and anxiety, dramatically so during the car ride over. So much so that Laura actually reaches across and flicks him hard on the temple during their drive, making Cora and Peter snicker.

“I can practically smell your anxiety, _Jesus_ , stop,” she snaps. He glares at her, fighting the wildest urge to stick his tongue out at her, before looking out the window.

The house they arrive at is far more modest than Derek thought it would be. Nestled behind a clump of trees at the very end of the street, the house is mid-sized, sealed off by a gate and a small keypad on the driver’s side of the car. Derek relays the code of the day to Peter--3487--who enters it and they wait as the gate slowly whirs to life and part in the middle to allow the car in.

“Fancy,” Cora murmurs.

As they pull up to the entrance of the house, Stiles is already waiting outside, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“He’s a fucking cutie, Derek,” Laura muses, waving at Stiles and grinning wickedly when he flails before waving back.

“Definitely your type,” Cora agrees. Derek groans in his seat, sinking down a little further.

“I should have left you all at home,” he grouses. Peter pulls the car into the paved driveway and they all hop out, but not before Derek looks at each of them with murderous looks. “Don’t. Say. Anything. Embarrassing.”

Laura gives a mock gasp, helping Cora unload her guitar from the trunk. “We would never!”

“Really, Derek, what do you take us for?” Peter echoes, shaking his head, as they start walking towards the house, cackling.

“I’m doomed,” Derek mutters to himself.

Stiles shoots him a small smile when he gets to the door, and Derek ignores the way his heart swoops slightly in his chest. “Hey,” he says, trying not to flush.

“Hi,” Stiles says, smiling shyly, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Jesus,” someone mutters from in front of them and the spell breaks, making Derek and Stiles jerk back ever so slightly before snapping their attention to the person--Lydia, as it turns out.

“Whenever you two are ready,” she says, giving them a simpering, only slightly condescending smile.

“Didn’t know she’d be here,” Derek mutters. It’s mostly to himself but it must have been loud enough for Stiles to hear because he frowns slightly.

“Is it okay that she is? She’s usually here all the time,” he answers, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t even think--”

“ _She_ is slowly losing her patience and has other things to do,” Lydia cuts in, zeroing her attention on Derek, though it’s clear she’s speaking to Stiles.

“Oh my God, we’re coming,” Stiles rolls his eyes, making her narrow her eyes at him. “Just--make sure they’re all set up downstairs.”

“I didn’t mean--it’s fine--I just,” Derek fumbles awkwardly, but Stiles waves him off.

“Don’t worry about it. She has this uncanny ability to make your balls shrivel up and die with one look,” he jokes with a low voice. “Seriously though, it’s okay she’s here?”

Derek tries to tamp down the novel feeling of jealousy-- _because what?_ \--at the idea of Lydia “usually being here all the time” as he remembers the rumors of them dating previously. He takes a deep breath and nods.

“Of course,” he says, even though it was anything but. But he sighs and follows Stiles down to the basement, where a small studio-type setup was built, complete with a recording mike in the corner with various instruments set up around it.

“This is cool,” he murmurs and Stiles grins over his shoulder.

“Thanks. It was the first thing Scotty and I wanted in any house we bought for ourselves. Back when we were kids, we used to jam all the time in our garage and now, that wouldn’t really be possible, but we needed some place to just rock out, y’know?” He motions to the open space of the basement, complete with a glass door that led to the large backyard with a large pool. “This was the result.”

“Very cool,” Laura affirms, grinning excitedly. She’s already sandwiched between Peter and--Scott McCall, apparently--nursing a beer. He’s surprised to find Jackson present too, along with Allison Argent, sitting comfortably on the other couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table. There’s a bass guitar propped by Allison, so she’s probably the bassist Stiles was talking about at brunch, Derek muses.

“Took you long enough to make yourself at home,” Derek says dryly, drawing his attention back to Laura.  

“Obviously,” she snipes back.

“Nah, dude,” Scott interjects. He’s playing with a small Hello Kitty polaroid camera that he places aside when he gets up. “It’s awesome. We hate being awkward around new people. Help yourself to a drink! Oh, I’m Scott, by the way!” He beams at Derek, and the sheer excitement rolling off Scott reminds Derek of an overly-happy puppy that’s managed to take on a human form. “Have you met Allison, yet?”

“Derek,” he answers, shaking hands with Scott, and then Allison, with one hand and accepting the beer Scott presents him with the other.

“Love the song, man, Stiles played it for me and it’s really frickin’ good,” he says enthusiastically. Derek smiles gratefully; there’s something about Scott that immediately puts him at ease, settling his nerves with a wave of calm.

“Thanks,” he replies, ducking his face into his chest.

“Alright,” Stiles says with a strangled voice, clapping his hands. “Ready to get started?”

Derek nods, looking at Cora for confirmation. Her only answer is to open her guitar case and taking out the guitar. She looks at Stiles with a pointed expression, and he nods to the amp sitting in the corner.

“Girl of many words, I see,” Stiles smirks, largely ignored by Cora.

As Cora plugs in her guitar, Allison walks over with her guitar and does the same with the second amp. There are a few music stands in the corner that Stiles starts setting up in front of the girls, one for each, before setting a third for Derek in front of the microphone.

Derek, for the most part, hovers awkwardly as Stiles whips around getting everything ready. Jackson and Lydia have their laptops out and are clearly having a little mini work session and Peter seems to be doing the same if the way he’s concentrating on his phone is any indication. Laura and Scott are talking happily, trading stories with each other of their childhoods and how they ended up in LA. Cora and Allison take turns strumming a few chords, making sure their guitars are tuned appropriately, while Stiles places music sheets on the stands for them.

Finally, Stiles turns to them after a few minutes and smiles anxiously. “I think we’re ready for you,” he tells Derek, motioning him to the microphone.

As Derek settles into his seat and puts on the pair of studio headphones that's on the chair, Stiles gets situated behind a table with a laptop, a traditional turntable, a channel board, and a mixer. The whole corner is a barrage of wires and speakers and instruments, but it’s a familiar environment to Derek. All of them take a few extra minutes to go through Stiles’s arrangement before turning back to the first page and looking at Stiles expectantly.

“Ready?” Stiles asks everyone and at their nods of confirmation, motions to Derek to start. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as he begins to sing. His voice cracks at first, but he slowly lowers himself into the song, forgetting that there’s an audience, and lets go.

The music, the sound, whatever people want to call it, comes out exactly as the arrangement calls for; Cora’s guitar mixing perfectly well with Allison’s bass, complemented by Stiles’s mixing, and amidst it all, Derek’s soft voice, a little dry, a little cracked in certain places after years of disuse.

It sounds good, better than he’d hoped for, as they play. This is just the first run-through, more about making sure everyone is aware of the timing and the overall sound, rather than having it be the final product.

It’s a different sound than what Derek was after; a more lively version with the tell-tale signs of being marketed towards a more pop-EDM audience compared to the original ballad he’d pictured, though he can’t help but marvel that Stiles had somehow managed to leave its meaning unchanged. 

Maybe it’s because it’s personal. Maybe it’s because Stiles went through a lot to make sure it stayed that way. Whatever it is, Derek thinks he’s beyond grateful as he trails off and the song comes to an end.

“That--that--I can’t--it was--,” Derek tries to formulate the words, but he can’t even attempt to describe the feeling that’s coursing through his veins.

“I know,” Stiles answers softly.

“That was incredible,” Allison breathes, eyes lighting up.

“Something’s missing,” Lydia announces and the declaration comes like a tub of cold water being dumped on everyone’s heads.

“What the hell,” Stiles starts, but Derek sees Cora nod her head imperceptibly.

“She’s right. Something’s missing,” Cora affirms. “I--I can’t figure out what it is, but it feels off.”

Stiles frowns, grabbing the music sheets and flipping through them. Maybe he doesn’t get the answer he wants because he puts on his headphones and listens back to the recording. He looks up at them, helplessly, taking off the headphones.

“They’re right. It feels incomplete.”

A stretch of silence falls between all of them for a moment, before Cora shoots up in her chair. “I got it!” she declares. She grabs her copy of the music sheets and walks to where Stiles is. “What if we add the keyboard here? We can start with it, before the first verse, and I have an idea for a riff here if you back me up.”

Stiles considers her offer, before smiling slowly. “I think that can work. I have a friend I can call for the keyboard--”

“Actually,” Cora starts, looking over at Laura pointedly, who raises her eyebrows.

“Are you serious?” she asks, looking between Cora and Stiles.

Stiles shrugs. “Why not? Makes more sense to have you if you’re able to do it. I’m sure it’d make Derek feel better too.”

Derek stares at Stiles, a mixture of awe and surprise fanning over his face. He’s still not used to why Stiles is going out of his way for Derek. During their first initial meeting, Derek had an idea of Stiles formulating in his mind, and now, weeks later, that picture had been replaced completely. It was one thing to explain why Stiles wanted the song so badly, going into one of the most private instances of his life to do so, but suggesting Derek sing it, accepting Cora as a guitarist without putting up a fight, and now Laura--the question in Derek’s mind was just, _Why?_

Laura ambles up to Derek, still smiling brightly. Stiles and Cora divide up the duties for the second run-through. Cora starts to set up the keyboard that was left in the corner across the room, dragging it closer to where they are, as Stiles starts working away on his laptop. Once the keyboard is ready to go, Stiles takes over, testing out various chords before settling on one he likes and moving back to the laptop.

“How’s it feeling?” Laura asks, knocking their shoulders together.

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I--there was a reason why I didn’t want to give away this song and when I did, it felt like I jumped the gun. But now...I don’t know. Maybe it was the right thing to do.”

She hums, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her cheek into his shoulder. “You never told me why you did it.”

Derek looks down, fingers fidgeting in his lap. “It felt like he’d treat it right. I never thought I’d let anyone have it, but giving it to him felt right.”

“Do you regret it now?”

He thinks about it, long and hard. “No,” he finally settles on saying.

Laura nods. “Okay. Good enough for me.”  

The overall process takes just less than 30 minutes, during which Peter, Lydia, and Jackson all turn back to their work, while Scott starts working away on his laptop as well. Laura and Derek catch up on their past week, having spent time apart thanks to Laura needing to travel for her job while Derek had a few meetings with potential artists for new collaborations.

Finally, Stiles clears his throat, drawing their attention to him. He passes a freshly printed copy of the arrangement to Laura, who starts scanning it immediately. “Let me know if there’s any part you have questions about.”

Laura gives a half-hearted nod, already embroiled in the music sheets, not that it was even necessary. While they were all a musical bunch naturally, had been ever since Derek had started taking violin lessons as a kid and Laura and Cora had joined in claiming other instruments, Laura was the only one who had the innate ability to sight read music.

Stiles passes out second copies to all of them and Derek flips through. Much of the arrangement is still the same with two major changes: Laura’s addition with the keyboard and what looks like a solo for Cora during the last chorus verse. He’s not sure about the latter, but he catches Cora smirk at him and wink, so he lets it go. He trusts Cora so might as well give it a shot. They can always revise if it doesn’t sound right.

She nods, satisfied, and walks to the keyboard. “Okay, I’m good.” Stiles’s surprise must show on his face because she winks. “Yeah, I can sight read.”

“So cool,” Stiles breathes, making Derek roll his eyes. Modest and humble Laura was not.

All of them take their places again and at Stiles’s nod, Laura starts them off with a couple of chords before Derek begins to sing.

 _I've been reading books of old_  
The legends and the myths  
Achilles and his gold  
Hercules and his gifts  
Spiderman's control  
And Batman with his fists  
And clearly I don't see myself up on that list

Now that Laura leads them into the first verse, Derek can hear the difference. The keyboard was what was missing the first time around.

Cora slowly chimes in with her guitar, face masked with concentration, as she stares at the music sheets in front of her, and behind her, Allison starts to strum as well at the appropriate places. They both play softly at first, gathering momentum as the song progresses, before launching strongly into the verse. Laura’s part actually tightens up all the instruments, giving them a much-needed rigidity and focus even though it’s the guitars that seem overwhelmingly present.

 _But she said, where'd you wanna go?_  
How much you wanna risk?  
I'm not looking for somebody  
With some superhuman gifts  
Some superhero  
Some fairytale bliss  
Just something I can turn to  
Somebody I can kiss

Stiles starts to creep in here, taking a stronger lead and working up to the same level as Cora and Allison. He starts a drumming beat on loop, effortlessly matching it with the harmony.  

Derek takes the time to let his eyes flit around the room, surprised at the way Peter’s put away his phone and nodding slightly, lips curled into a hint of a smile. Scott looks like he’s seen multiple rainbows and is furiously taking either pictures or video with the camera. Even Lydia and Jackson seem to be onboard with it.

 _I want something just like this_  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Oh, I want something just like this  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo

_Oh, I want something just like this  
I want something just like this_

Just as Derek finishes the verse, Stiles kicks his part into full gear. This--this is where the song really becomes alive. It’s a new sound and it makes him stare full-force at Stiles, unable to looks away, noticing the way Stiles beams back before he shifts his attention back to his the laptop. His body rocks back and forth, but his hands never lose their focus from mixing.

It’s effortless, the way Stiles is able to mold so seamlessly with Cora, Allison, and Laura; they harmonize impeccably well together, being able to call attention to their contributions, yet never overshadowing each other.

 _I've been reading books of old_  
The legends and the myths  
The testaments they told  
The moon and its eclipse  
And Superman unrolls  
A suit before he lifts  
But I'm not the kind of person that it fits

 _She said, where'd you wanna go?_  
How much you wanna risk?  
I'm not looking for somebody  
With some superhuman gifts  
Some superhero  
Some fairytale bliss  
Just something I can turn to  
Somebody I can miss

This time, Derek sings with his eyes open, emboldened by the encouraging smile on Stiles’s face. He turns to Laura, who’s swaying in place, full out grinning at him, as her fingers fly over the keyboard. Although Cora’s still concentrating on the sheet music, even she’s smiling. Now that his eyes are open, he notes an identical expression on everyone’s faces, even Peter.

_I want something just like this  
I want something just like this_

_Oh, I want something just like this_  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Oh, I want something just like this  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo  
Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo

 _Where'd you wanna go?_  
How much you wanna risk?  
I'm not looking for somebody  
With some superhuman gifts  
Some superhero  
Some fairytale bliss  
Just something I can turn to  
Somebody I can kiss  
I want something just like this

As Derek finishes up the last pre-chorus verse and is about to move to the outro, Stiles holds up his hand and motions for Cora to get ready. This is the part that they’d changed the most for this version--adding an outro for Derek and breaking up each line with a little solo by Cora, backed by Stiles.

He signals to Derek to sing the first line, which he does, pausing just like the arrangement calls for as Cora ramps up her solo, rocking back and forth, beaming. Looking at her, a wide grin stretches out on Derek’s face. It’s so rare to see Cora in moments such as this one, carefree and caution thrown to the wind. As much as his sisters like to joke about him being the grumpy one, Cora is definitely the one that’s more closed off. It’s not like she refuses to share her life with them, it’s that it always looks like she’s constantly holding herself back. She refuses to lose herself in the moment, but this moment right here is unlike all others.

This is Cora basically giving zero fucks of who’s around her and that they’re watching her--in this moment, it’s just Cora and her guitar. Just as it should be.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he almost misses his cue for the second last line--that is, he would have if Stiles hadn’t chucked a Skittle--where the fuck did that even come from?!--at him. Derek barely manages to sing the line, before Cora launches into another solo, heartily backed by Stiles once again.

He takes the last pause to stare at Stiles this time, noting the sheer amount of concentration and seriousness on his face, completely paradoxical to the way his body is moving to the beat, arms waving through the air and head bobbing back and forth. This time, Derek doesn’t miss his cue and as he repeats _I want something just like this…_ For the last time with his voice tapering off into silence, Stiles turns to him and--

_Oh._

There’s a wild darkness in Stiles’s eyes as he stares back at Derek, full of intent and promise, and Derek has no idea what he just stepped into but he doesn’t care enough to back out. Under Stiles’s burning gaze, it feels like that last line just took on a whole different meaning.

One that Derek maybe doesn’t want to rewrite.

The instruments taper off into a soft lull before there’s nothing but silence surrounding them. For a few moments, nobody says a word. They stare at each other, with a hybrid expression of wonderment and ecstasy, as they try to formulate the words.

“That was--,” Derek finally starts to say, but he shrugs helplessly. Nothing--there’s nothing he can say that can describe exactly what he feels in this moment.  

“There’s a lot of cleaning to do, production wise, but I think that’s pretty good, don’t you think?” Stiles asks, a hesitant smile on his face. He rubs the back of his head nervously.

“It’s amazing,” Derek finally musters.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answers firmly. He’s rewarded with one of Stiles’s beautiful smiles and he instinctively grins back, trying to ignore the way his stomach swoops when Stiles flushes and ducks his head before looking away. Faintly, he hears the tell-tale click of the polaroid but he ignores it.

“Wow,” someone mutters, breaking the moment, and Derek whips his head around at Laura’s barely concealed look of utter glee while Cora shakes her head behind her. He narrows his eyes at her, almost threateningly so, but of course, it doesn’t work. His glares haven’t worked on her or Cora since the bunny incident when they were ten.

Peter claps his hand, getting up. “Well as lovely as it is to see my nephew with a dopey smile on his face, I’ve got meetings to attend.” He turns to Lydia and Jackson. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Bro, that was awesome!” Scott grins. He runs over to Stiles and gives him a fist bump, before leaning in and murmuring quietly enough that Derek almost didn’t hear. “She’d have been proud.”

Stiles looks down and nods. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“So we’re going to go, Derek. Will you be joining us?” Cora looks at him expectantly.

“Yeeaah,” he says, drawing it out. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Derek frowns, looking between Laura and Cora, both of whom just roll their eyes exasperatedly.

“No reason,” Laura says sweetly with a wicked gleam in her eyes that Derek doesn’t trust for a second.

“We’re going to head out as well,” Lydia announces, as Jackson starts packing his stuff behind her. She looks at Stiles and Derek. “Derek, let Peter know everything you want. Stiles, text me the same. Peter, Jackson, and I will hash out the details for the contract tomorrow and send them to both of you by end of day for you to look over. Once everything’s finalized, we’ll set up a time in the recording studio and get started.”

Derek barely has time to nod before she and Jackson take their leave, with Peter following closely. “I’ll be in the car,” he announces.

“Are you really okay with it?” Derek turns his head, almost jerking his head back when he realizes how close Stiles really is. Under the soft light from the pot lights in the ceiling, Stiles’s eyes are beautiful; all whiskey-hued and big and open.

Derek’s eyes flick over to his lips, and Stiles’s eyes widen just a fraction when he catches the movement, but Derek steps back before he does something stupid.

“Yeah.” He nods, and as if there’s still any doubt, repeats more firmly, “Yes.”

“You still have time to back out,” Stiles proffers, softly.

Derek gives him a wry smile. “Are you sure you still want it? You’re trying awfully hard for someone who wants the song in the first place.”

“I do. I just didn’t want to force you.”

Derek holds his gaze and says honestly, “You could never force me. Now stop asking me and text Lydia.”

-

The song, aptly titled _Something Just Like This_ , gets released a month later on a Thursday, on the eve of his mom’s birthday.

Derek plays it over and over again in his room when the song releases on iTunes and all the other radio stations. The final version of the song is beautiful, breathtaking almost, thanks to the production quality. While it starts out soft, with just Derek and some backup from Allison and Laura, by the time Stiles’s part comes in, there’s a second life breathed into it, the result being larger-than-life.

He’s on the eighth, maybe ninth, replay of the song when Laura pokes her head in and flings a box at him.

“Laura!”

“Package for you,” she says, smiling far too innocently for his good.

“I can see that, thank you,” Derek answers tartly. She winks at him, before closing the door behind her.

The box is pretty small, the size of a shoebox, wrapped in non-descript brown paper with a string of twine tied around it. His curiosity piques; there’s no tag on it so he has no idea who sent it at first glance, but whoever it was clearly either delivered it to the house or to Laura personally. Derek unties it, and carefully unwraps the box, before opening it.

There’s scrunched up dark red tissue paper underneath a small card that says, thank you, in a messy scrawl. There is other stuff in the box, it’s heavier than it would be if it only had some tissue paper and a card. He flips the card over, but there’s still no mention of the sender’s name. It wouldn’t be...would it? His heart begins to beat loudly and he places the card on his bedside table and the tissue paper aside on the bed.

Underneath, it a stack of polaroid shots tied together with more twine nestled into more scrunched up tissue paper. Derek smiles slowly, holding the stack with gentle hands, as he untied the twine. They’re various shots of the little run-through from Stiles’s basement and some from their recording session at the studio a week later.

The ones sent to him were all candid shots, mostly of Derek and his sisters and even a couple with Peter talking on the phone looking at the camera, unimpressed. There were a few of Laura sticking her tongue out and flashing the peace sign, some more of her and Cora together with their arms wrapped around each other, and more of them with Derek all laughing together.

The last one though was from the basement with Stiles and Derek, probably right after the second run-through of the whole song when they added Laura. Derek’s still on the high-chair with the headphones on behind the mike, Stiles is standing behind his equipment, but both are beaming at each other. Underneath the picture is a familiar ten-digit number scrawled in the same handwriting as the thank you, cementing the identity of the sender once and for all.

Derek smiles, heart aching at the memory. Stiles is unlike anyone he’d ever met; completely different in person than how he’s painted on social media or in interviews and he doesn’t know if that’s something deliberate on Stiles’s end or an image that the media concocted because they needed someone more interesting to look at.

He’s plenty interesting on his own though, Derek thinks. Passionate, loyal to a fault, a downright geek when you get him started on Star Wars or comic books.

 **< Derek, 4:22 pm:** _I already have your number._

The reply is instantaneous.

 **> Stiles, 4:22 pm: ** _You weren’t using it._

Derek huffs out a laugh and asks himself if this what giddy feels like.

 **< Derek, 4:23pm:** _Sorry. I’ll start now._

 **< Derek, 4:24 pm:** _Are you busy tomorrow? Brunch at The Grind again?_

 **> Stiles, 4:24 pm:** _It’s a date._

 **< Derek, 4:25 pm:** _Yes, it is._

He puts the phone on the bed and grins.

A hurricane--wasn’t that how he’d described Stiles initially?

A hurricane, powerful in its own right, that would undoubtedly leave its mark and for once, Derek doesn’t want to run away and seek shelter. That’s what he’s done for so long; run and hide from anyone trying to get close, but with Stiles, his instincts seem to be failing him. With Stiles, he wants to stay and face the wind, even it meant getting destroyed in the process.

And Derek can’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up at: [tumblr](http://hales-republic.tumblr.com) // [twitter](http://twitter.com/halesrepublic). 
> 
> Send me prompts, flail with me over Hoechlin's eyes, let's be friends - the whole shebang.


End file.
